


Getting dirrty

by afra_schatz



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, PWP, Smut, car porn which is a thing, filthy rich!Karl, long suffering!Harry, rude!Orlando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afra_schatz/pseuds/afra_schatz
Summary: This is a collection of five stories set in a millionaire / mechanics AU called the ‘Getting Dirrty’ series, and for stories, set post-New-Zealand, in the ‘Genesis’ verse. All feature the pairing of Orlando Bloom / Harry Sinclair / Karl Urban (and variations of this). All of them are very much NC 17.  - There is a table of contents at the beginning.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azewewish (Brenda)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



****

**Fic Titles:**

**_“I don’t care that he’s gorgeous and the most fucking influential bloke in the universe. He does summat like that again, I’ll kill him.”  
– Karl/Orlando/Harry –_ **

**Getting Dirrty  
Getting Dirrtier  
Getting Territorial  
Getting Screwed  
Getting off**

Getting dirrty

Orlando first rolled his eyes and then rolled out from under the car he had just been working on.

"What is it?" he grumbled, not pleased to be interrupted in his tête á tête with his current favourite darling, and squinted against the floodlight on the garage's high ceiling. He hooded his eyes with one grease smeared hand, adding to the various streaks of oil and dirt already accentuating his cheekbones and jawline.

"'scuse the interruption", was the reply from his boss, Karl's cultivated accent undermined by amusement. "I need the Mercedes this afternoon and just wanted to make sure it's in good health."

Orlando frowned and when his eyes finally had adjusted to the brightness he lowered his hand to look at Karl. He had to look up long legs that as per usual were clad in the finest of fabrics, no doubt this suit was by some fancy designer Orlando's boss monopolized. 

"Sure thing", Orlando grunted, not even bothering to be so polite as to laugh at the other man's attempt of humour or to get up from where he was lying. "That's what I'm here for, right?"

"Riight", Karl said and now the smile was so evident in his voice that Orlando frowned and then realised the cause for it. Not polite, not even by his standards, to talk to the boss and all the while staring at his crotch like it was his own personal tool box, really.

Somewhat reluctantly Orlando let his eyes move further up, the reluctance of course was only momentarily because really, the rest of his boss wasn't exactly hard to look at either.

"You want something else?" the mechanic asked once his eyes met the other man's steady gaze.

"Nice thing about being rich as fuck," Karl said and slid his hands into the pockets of his pants, "is that I hardly ever ask myself that."

Orlando snorted and the right corner of his mouth tugged up. "Bollocks."

"I take it you don't believe me?" Karl translated Orlandoish into something more appropriate for homo sapiens sapiens and leaned against the side of the Porsche.

"Yeah," Orlando replied and with one fluent motion got to his feet. Out of habit he brushed his hands off on the front of his overall and stuffed the tool he'd been working with into one of its many pockets. "Little kids even know that. Stamp on one wasp and 50 come to the funeral."

Karl looked down at Orlando, his casual stance and his dirty clothing, the working class accent in his voice registering as he contemplated his words.

"Come on," Karl said, the counterpart to Orlando's smile playing around his lips. "Don't tell me being poor is a form of life. You got Marx under your pillow, too?"

Orlando's gaze didn't waver and if he didn't know who Karl was referring to he didn't let it show. Instead of jumping to the bait he snuffled a bit, rubbing his nose with a more or less clean patch of the back of his hand and gave back, "There's some things you can't pay for. Which makes them all the more fun, is all I'm saying."

Karl knew a challenge when he saw one and the daring look in Orlando's eyes send some pleasurable shivers down his body that indeed you couldn't pay for. The taller man crossed his arms in front of his chest, expensive cufflinks clicking against his Rolex and he arched an eyebrow.

"Really? Say, what for example?"

A smirk as filthy as the rest of Orlando curled the mechanics lips. With his hands still stuffed into the pockets of his overall he stepped into Karl’s personal space. His grease smeared face was only centimetres away from Karl’s and his voice was a low, rough around the edges like the motor of Karl’s favourite Ferrari.

“Getting dirty, for one,” he purred and his eyes flicked down at Karl’s crossed arms, glinting with something like mocking pity at posh clothes in their decent neatness.

Well, Karl had always thought attack the best form of defence, had saved several of his enterprises with his natural boldness. He gripped Orlando’s upper arms, the rough material of the overall bunching under perfectly manicured fingers, and pushed the mechanic back against the expensive car he had been working on.

“I just take what I want,” Karl growled, the sound more accentuated by his deceptively charming smile. Orlando’s body responded before his mind could, his pupils widened and blackened his eyes, then the mechanic threw his head back and laughed. Karl kissed him hard on the mouth.

Karl’s tongue instantly pushed past Orlando’s lips, determined to lick the tease and self assurance out of the mechanic’s mouth, replace it with his taste. He used his advantage in height and body mass and pressed himself against Orlando, giving him no option to move away, with the boldness and demand he was infamous for, had become rich with.

Orlando was far from intimidated. He didn’t laugh anymore, he growled and welcomed Karl’s tongue with his teeth, gracing his sharp incisors over it. Karl hissed in something between pleasure and pain and withdrew and Orlando whispered against lush lips,

“I don’t think so, rich boy.”

This time it was Karl laughing in surprise and delight and Orlando pulled him down for another kiss. Orlando’s tongue demanded entrance to Karl’s mouth, as brazen as every other action of the mechanic, and they fought for dominance, biting, growling, kissing and pushing against one another. Blunt fingernails dug into muscles still hidden underneath layers of fabric and both men growled deep in their chests when Orlando ground his hips against Karl’s.

“That quick mouth of yours,” Karl panted between kisses and Orlando bit his bottom lip, “will get you into trouble.”

Orlando pulled back enough for Karl to watch him lick his lips with the obscene elegance of a high class hooker. His hand snuck between them and gripped Karl’s cock through his expensive trousers, squeezing it hard.

“Gets me in, gets me out,” Orlando replied and Karl was sure it took a real stubborn bastard to remember being pissed off, to remember anything at all once he had Orlando’s lips wrapped around his cock, had his tongue pushing against its underside, had Orlando’s throat closing around it. 

Karl was more than a stubborn bastard, though. His cock pulsed in Orlando’s hand and his entire body screamed to him to give in but even though his hips rocked and pushed his dick into Orlando’s grasp his voice was even, polite when he leaned in and whispered into Orlando’s ear,

“You won’t get off that cheaply, pretty boy.”

He bit back a hiss when Orlando’s grip on him tightened at the charming insult and he bit the soft skin right underneath Orlando’s ear where his neck met his shoulder. 

“Fuck, yes, I love that, fuck,” the mechanic cursed and threw his head back and groaned, momentarily giving in. Karl used it in his advantage and tore down the zipper of Orlando’s overall while his teeth dug deeper into Orlando’s flesh. He trapped him like a lion going for the jugular and Orlando nearly came right then.

His free hand shot up and was buried in Karl’s perfectly cut dark hair. Karl grunted in pain when his head was yanked back from Orlando’s bruised neck, a sound that was swallowed in another searing kiss. He pushed his hands into Orlando’s overall and his dark growl turned into an almost grateful groan when they found hot and naked skin right underneath. 

Karl broke the kiss and hissed, “Down with that. Now. Let’s see the goods then.” 

The mechanic momentarily let go of him but only for the seconds it cost Karl to shove the overall over Orlando’s shoulders and down to his hips. Orlando fumbled with Karl’s fly, snapping his belt open swiftly, he chuckled. “I’m no fucking piece of meat.” 

“Whatever,” Karl grunted, his entire body quivering with suppressed need and his cock impossibly hard and burning. “Just get your fucking hands on me.”

And Orlando did, pressed his lips onto Karl’s once more and wrapped his oily fingers around Karl’s straining erection.

“Gotcha,” Orlando half-snarled, half-purred and Karl’s knees threatened to buckle. “Hmm, you like it rough, don’t ya?”  
Karl tried to swallow a groan, and another, the only response possible to Orlando’s strong and swift motions, no tease, no subtly whatsoever.

“C’me on,” Orlando prompted and thrust his groin forward, trapping his own hand between their bodies, “what happened to politeness then, huh?”

“Fucking hell,” Karl cursed and in response scratched down Orlando’s naked back, earning a surprisingly quiet moan and fluttering eyelids and a momentary change of pace. Orlando’s overall slid a little further down over his narrow hips as Karl’s hand first squeezed Orlando’s ass and then cupped his balls, waiting.

“Say please,” Karl now prompted and this time Orlando grinned at him and twisted his hand around his cock before leaning in for another kiss. 

”Fuck you,” Orlando groaned breathlessly and pushed one of his knees between Karl’s legs to get closer to him, steadily fucking Karl’s offered fist. “Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou.”

“Shut up,” Karl ordered, not really meaning it but enjoying the shudder that ran through Orlando’s body nevertheless. The mechanic gripped him harder and at the same time rubbed his entire naked body against Karl, offering his throat again. 

Karl’s mouth watered when he saw the bite marks the shape of his own teeth and he licked over them. Orlando whimpered and eagerly flicked his thump over the head of Karl’s cock, urging him on. He leaned heavily against Karl and from his lips spilled more of those sweet moans when Karl’s lips closed over the bruise and he sucked.

Orlando’s eyes snapped shut at the intense pleasure/pain caused by Karl’s mouth. It spread through his body like a wildfire, made his skin burn and centred in his groin.

“Now,” Karl’s low and in control voice murmured into his ear. “Who’s gonna be a good boy and comes for me?” His teeth sunk into Orlando’s neck again, slightly higher this time.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Orlando cried out, chocking on the curse as he spilled his seed all over Karl’s hand that wouldn’t stop stroking him. His entire body froze to immobility and he grunted almost displeased when Karl’s mouth closed over his own again, kissing him hard and providing another sensation that was just too much. 

He tried to pull back but felt too shaky to really put up a fight and Karl wouldn’t let him go that easily. He wiped his spunk covered hand roughly on some part of Orlando’s overall but when he brought it up to cup Orlando’s face with it to keep him close the mechanic could smell himself on the other man.

Orlando bit down on Karl’s tongue and that threw the millionaire off for the second Orlando needed to turn the tables on him. The top button of Karl’s expensive shirt was ripped off and fell onto the dirty floor of the garage, unnoticed by both men. Orlando first gripped Karl’s shirt collar, then closed his finger around his throat, Karl’s silver chain leaving imprints in both men’s skin. 

Karl’s eyes shot open and Orlando’s black gaze shocked him even more than the strong hand that pushed him back against the Mercedes behind him. 

“Always the one in fucking control, eh?” Orlando asked, accent and challenge thicker than before. “We’ll see about that, mate.”

Orlando still worked Karl’s cock in swift, no-nonsense motions, and Karl could smell the oil and grease and dirt in the mechanic’s curls as he leaned forward and licked along Karl’s jaw line, along the imprints his fingers left on Karl’s neck.

“In ten seconds,” Orlando growled when his moist lips almost touched Karl’s again, “you are gonna shoot your load all over your fancy clothes. ‘N you know why?”

Karl tried to remember how to speak, how remember to do anything but rub against the half naked mechanic like a bitch in heat. 

“Why?” he managed to croak, Orlando’s palm hard against his Adam’s apple.

Orlando’s small lips curved into a smile, both sweet and cruel and his eyes rested on Karl, lying in wait to see him come undone.

“Cuz I tell you to, that’s why,” he drawled and twisted his fist around the head of Karl’s cock with blessed nastiness. Karl lost it and bucked against Orlando, his knees giving in and the mechanic’s strong grip being the only thing that held him up against the car when he came with a roar, his come splashing all over the lower half of his babyblue shirt and Orlando’s flat belly.

Orlando’s grip around his throat loosened when he thought the other man could support himself again and Karl inhaled breathlessly, panting like he’d run a marathon while staring wide and wild eyed at Orlando. The mechanic wiped his hand off on Karl’s shirt in the same fashion the other man had done it before and smirked at him.

“That was quite lovely,” he said in a fairly good imitation of an upper class accent.

“Fuck, yeah,” Karl replied, dropping his own accent with a smile matching the one on Orlando’s face.

The mechanic pulled the zipper of his overall up just enough to stop it from sliding further down but didn’t bother with slipping into its sleeves again. He hooked his thumb into its front and grinned when Karl look down at himself and back up at Orlando with a raised eyebrow.

“So,” the millionaire said, rearranging his own clothes again, “the Merc’s ready to go this afternoon then?”

“Sure,” the mechanic nodded, “whenever you need it.” And in an uncharacteristic flash of curiosity he asked, “What’re you doing then? Lemme guess – Polo? Charity event?”

“Nah,” Karl chuckled and shook his head at the sight of his absolutely ruined shirt. “Cup of coffee with the future inlaws. You?”

The mechanic shrugged and lit himself a cigarette. “Working on your Bugatti, I guess, pretty little thing. Oh and,” he grinned and offered Karl a drag of his cig which the other man declined, “prolly getting shagged rotten by Harry. The usual.”

Karl’s eyes automatically wandered to the window of the head mechanic’s office where Harry Sinclair usually could be found if he wasn’t working on one of Karl’s cars. But the room was empty and the tall man nowhere to be seen.

“Wanna swap?” Karl asked with a smile, already knowing the answer.

“Fuck off,” Orlando snorted but shot him a grin before flicking the Merc’s hood open and disappearing in the big car’s belly.

Getting dirrtier

Karl was in a good mood. Not that being rich and successful and fucking handsome didn’t usually let him wake up with a boner in regards to his own awesomeness anyways, but today he was in an exceptionally fantastic kinda mood. Making money was one hell of a satisfying pastime but finding ways to spend it was even better, wasn’t it?

He’d walked over to his private garage but now that he’d reached the building he found it dark, the massive steel door already firmly shut. He stood on his tiptoes to glance through the milky glass. He couldn’t see anything though, the last time those windows had been cleaned he’d probably been busy making his first million. But there was still light on. 

The moment he let himself in through the side entrance he knew for sure that his two mechanics were still in the building.

“Must be the stink of testosterone,” he muttered to himself, smiling, even before he could hear the telltale noises from the work area. He walked around the corner and despite the heralding groans he still hadn’t been quite prepared for the sight that welcomed him there.

Orlando lay sprawled over the seat and tank of Karl’s black chopper and glared at Harry who towered over him. The young mechanic wore a simple white t-shirt and an ordinary pair of jeans. Its fly had been ripped open and revealed Orlando’s obvious arousal, hard and leaking, which Karl would have found irresistible. However, Harry, still in his overall, leaned down and just flicked his tongue over the head of Orlando's dick.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed and licked his lips, “you taste like you really fucking need it.”

“Stop pissing about,” Orlando grunted and his hand fisted Harry’s grey hair and tried to push the other mechanic’s head down into his lap, “and blow me already, you miserable son of a – fuuuck!”

Harry had given in and practically inhaled Orlando’s cock and the young man screamed in greedy satisfaction, his hand never letting go of the head mechanic’s hair. The curse echoed in the large hall and made Karl suck in air as arousal rushed through him like gasoline on fire. Orlando thrashed on the motorbike and arched his back to thrust even further down the other man’s throat. Harry’s greasy palm left an oily, hand shaped stain right on the front of Orlando’s white shirt as he pushed him back down again.

“Fuck, fuck,” Orlando shouted and mindlessly clung to the arm that held him down, fighting to get free, “I hate you, you bastard. Let me fucking go!”

Harry momentarily let Orlando have his way and instantly both of Orlando’s hands grabbed his head. He put one boot clad foot up onto the chopper’s exhaust pipe, finally getting the leverage he needed to fuck Harry’s throat for real now. His eyes were squeezed shut and sweat ran down his face, causing the grease stains to run like make up, and his strong thighs quivered from the effort. Karl felt a responding shiver run through his body, but other than that found himself unable to move

“Yesss,” Orlando hissed, his voice oddly soft and lost in the sensations. Now that he’d gotten the control he’d wanted Karl was surprised to witness the mechanic letting go of it again almost instantly. His hand merely cradled Harry’s head in an almost tender gesture and he let the older man set the pace. 

Karl still stood transfixed in the doorway he couldn’t decide what turned him on more the soft slurping noise Harry’s lips made, now that they moved up and down over Orlando’s spit slickened cock in a steady rhythm, or Orlando quietly moaning, “Yeah, love, just like – God, yes.”

The millionaire winced because his own cock felt painfully hard against his fly and he reached down to adjust himself in his suddenly too tight pants. The bunch of keys in his pocket rattled quietly and Orlando’s eyes fluttered open instantly.

“Now, look who’s here,” Orlando all but purred as his black gaze focussed on the tall figure in the doorway. He lightly tugged at Harry’s hair and his lover’s turned his head. 

“’Evening, Mr. Urban,” Harry had risen enough to let Orlando’s cock slide out of his mouth but Orlando could still feel the vibrations of his lips against the already overstimulated head. Needy, he thrust his hips up and his erection poked Harry’s cheek. He growled when the older man’s fist closed around his dick and held him down for the moment.

Orlando’s eyes darted back to Karl and unconsciously he licked his lips. His large body filled the doorframe and as per usual he wore these posh clothes Orlando yearned to mess up. His dark eyes, framed by long lashes under thick brows, were fixed on Orlando’s nakedness and his voice was throaty when he finally replied to Harry’s greeting.

“Working overtime, I see,” he drawled and Orlando could see how hard he was.

Harry chuckled and gripped Orlando’s cock more firmly to stop him from wriggling. “And hard work it is.”

“Oi,” the younger man cut in, ever impatient, “you mind getting back to it then?” His eyes met Harry’s and he saw his own lust reflected there. Slowly, Harry’s lips closed around the head of his cock again and Orlando stretched on the motorbike, one hand wrapping around the chrome handlebar, displaying them for Karl.

“Ain’t that what you pay us for?” he asked, his eyebrows quirking up cheekily while his fingertips curled behind Harry’s ear. He groaned when his lover slid the tip of his tongue under his foreskin and Karl’s big hand came to rest atop the bulge in his trousers. Orlando looked down at himself he found Harry’s equally intense gaze fixed on him.

“Fuck, you look hot like that,” he groaned, fingertips tracing his lover’s lips stretched around his prick, and watched himself gliding in and out, hot skin shimmering with saliva. The older man’s hand closed around his balls, squeezing them and twisting just that little bit. It made Orlando whimper with need and pushed him to the brink of orgasm.

Orlando’s vision was already blurring around the edges but he snapped his head around and focussed on Karl once more. The millionaire now slowly, almost teasingly lazy rubbed his palm against his trapped cock.

“Let’s see you earn your paycheck then,” Karl ordered and Orlando lost it. His entire body shuddered at the authoritative tone of voice and using Harry’s ear as a convenient handle he dragged his lover’s mouth down onto his cock and began spurting down his throat. Distantly he heard himself screaming Harry’s name while his eyes never left Karl and his body convulsed and bucked on the motorbike. Harry growled, a sound so animalistic and possessive and so fucking amazing, wrapped so tightly around his dick that Orlando almost passed out. 

He felt like Sleeping fucking beauty when the touch of Harry’s mouth against his own pulled him out of his climax induced stupor. Grinning at the thought he willingly parted his lips and laughed quietly when Harry instantly pushed his tongue and most of Orlando’s come into his mouth. Their tongues entangled and swirled it around, as always enjoying the salty taste, before Orlando gave it back to his lover. His lips rubbed against the rough stubble around Harry’s mouth when, with a sideward glance to the still present millionaire, he growled, “Go on, let him have a taste.”

Karl had waited with uncharacteristic patience, smiled when Harry nudged Orlando’s nose with his own before he straightened. The head mechanic still wore his overall and its well worn fabric clung to his broad frame when he walked towards Karl. 

“Good thing that I know,” the millionaire said, “that you show the same dedication to my cars.”

Harry didn’t reply but in his eyes Karl saw the same self-assurance that was the reason for Orlando’s sneering charm. His mouth curved into a smile right before he reached his boss and without the slightest hesitation Harry kissed him. The millionaire’s lips instinctively parted and he groaned when the combined taste of Harry and Orlando flooded his senses. He felt Harry tremble with a silent chuckle and brought his hand up to pull the older man closer as his tongue sought more of that taste, that taste.

The head mechanic pulled back and his large hand briefly cupped Karl’s cheek before sliding down his body. “Your chopper likes being fucked on,” he remarked with a voice surprisingly smooth.

“I know,” Karl replied matter of factly but licked his lips hungrily. He pressed closer against the head mechanic, bringing their hard cocks together. “But a blow job hardly qualifies as a fuck, does it?”

Karl ran his hand down the mechanic’s chest, pulling down the zipper of his overall, and it joined Harry’s between their bodies, stroking both Harry’s fingers as well as their cocks. Neither of them broke their eye lock and the question hung between them and they both knew what Karl’s words really suggested. 

Surprisingly quiet steps for heavy boots on stone ground, and Orlando was there with them, wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist. 

“What’s this then?” Orlando huffed. “A sodding secret society meeting?” He pulled Harry back just the littlest bit against his chest in the age old gesture of possessiveness and when Karl looked at him Orlando’s eyes were darker than even when he’d been coming. 

“Don’t be silly,” Harry replied but relaxed in the younger man’s embrace while his fingers still remained loosely entwined with Karl’s. Orlando stepped between them so Harry could lean against the garage’s concrete wall while he started wanking him off. Orlando half turned around to look at Karl again. He caught his employer’s expensive tie and Karl let himself be dragged closer, so close that their lips were almost touching. Harry groaned quietly, his hands on Orlando’s shoulders.

“Mine,” Orlando mouthed against Karl’s lips, making it – once again – perfectly clear that even Karl couldn’t have everything, especially not Harry when Orlando had already laid claim on him. 

Still, Karl’s eyes narrowed and he held Orlando’s gaze, waiting for an alternative offer then. Orlando smirked and pulled back a bit, not even flinching when Harry bit down on his neck now, thrusting steadily into his fist and lapping at his abused skin.

“You can fuck me, though, if you wanna,” Orlando offered in a tone full of self assurance, knowing that he wouldn’t be refused.

“It’s a deal,” Karl growled and Harry’s head snapped back and he gasped, “Fuck, Orlando!”

The younger mechanic’s eyebrows hopped up at the appropriateness of that curse and he pulled Karl in for a kiss. The millionaire fumbled with his belt while he heard Orlando’s fly being ripped open by Harry.

“Well oiled machine, the two of you,” Karl growled into the kiss and pushed his trousers and briefs down to his thighs. Orlando just laughed but Harry reached around him and his hand found Karl’s and pushed a condom into it. “Get a move on then, he’s not very patient.”

“Piss off,” Orlando replied, proving Harry’s point, but Karl wasn’t in the mood to debate the virtue of patience. Instead he ripped the condom open, rolled it on, added a bit of spit and dragged Orlando’s jeans over his buttocks.

“I take it you don’t want –“

“If you’re gonna suggest prep now,” Orlando hissed, “I’m gonna fuck myself with a bloody screwdriver and you can just sod the fuck -,”

Karl had gripped Orlando’s buttocks hard, his fingers digging into the pale flesh, and he aligned himself and thrust.

“God, fuck yes,” Orlando howled when the head of Karl’s cock pushed past the first tight ring of muscles. He threw his head back and the millionaire pushed harder, gave him no real time to adjust but instead fucked him against Harry. Instantly, Karl sweated from every fucking pore of his skin, soaking his clothes and snarled when Orlando deliberately closed his inner muscles around him like a vice.

“Is that,” Orlando gasped, “all you can do?”

“Jesus,” Karl snarled, equally breathless and buried himself up to the hilt only to pull almost completely out, “what the fuck does it take for you to shut up?”

“’Blow over the head with a crowbar?” Harry suggested and his mouth dropped open with a pained/pleasured intake of breath when Orlando responded with a cruel twist of his hand around his cock.

Karl widened his stance a little, the exquisite fabric of his trousers straining and cutting into his thighs. New angle, better leverage and Orlando screamed with his next thrust.

“This seems to work,” the millionaire moaned and the head mechanic laughed breathlessly. Orlando screamed again and threw his head back, resting it against Karl’s shoulder and trusting the other two to hold him up as Karl pounded into him. 

Karl was so close he could already feel the blood rushing in his ears and sweat dropped from his brow. He locked eyes with Harry again and the head mechanic’s hand gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was fierce and wicked and oddly gentle at the same time and Karl felt too delirious to know which of the three pushed him over the edge. He came hard and his ears rang from Orlando’s final outcry, his body shuddered in response to the soundless gasp from Harry’s lips as they both joined Orlando.

“I say I’m fucking paralysed,” Orlando groaned and with an effort he raised his head from Karl’s shoulder only to have to be steadied by Harry’s arms the next moment.

“I say I’m fucking deaf,” countered Karl. “You’re really rather vocal.”

A growl from Orlando, muffled by Harry’s overall, was all the response from the young mechanic the millionaire got.

“And I say you’re both fucking pathetic,” Harry laughed and with a wink to Karl he added, “If that won’t get me fired, boss.”

“Nah,” the millionaire replied, tied a knot into the condom, threw it into the bin and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face free from sweat. “I need someone to look after my helicopter, don’t I?”

That got Orlando’s attention and he turned his head enough so he could eye Karl. “You don’t own a heli.”

Karl grinned. “I bought one this morning.”

“Interesting,” Harry said.

“Ey, another chopper to fuck on,” Orlando added with a smile.

Getting territorial

“Maybe I should fire you.”

Orlando straightened up and resurfaced from under the hood of the Bentley. His boss leaned back against the side of theMaserati and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Huh?” Orlando arched a brow and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“I said,” Karl repeated slowly, “maybe I should fire you.”

That fucking small smile of his lingered on his lips. Orlando didn’t know much about high up business meetings and shit, but he was sure that Karl smiled like that during a hostile takeover. The mechanic snorted and mirrored the millionaire’s posture, dirty fingers digging into the muscles of his upper arms.

“Bullshit,” he grunted. “I’m a fucking magician.”

“Still,” Karl said simply. When Orlando didn’t reply, he turned around and made to walk out of the garage.

“Okay,” Orlando grunted with annoyance. “Why?”

Karl stopped and turned around again. His eyes raked over his assembly of toys, all in perfect shape and shining alluringly, but moved on to the small office on the right side of the garage. Orlando’s gaze followed his and so now they were both staring at Harry, hunched over some paperwork and oblivious to the attention. Just now he stretched, rubbing the back of his neck which made the muscles under his shirt bunch up.

“Well,” Karl said and closed the distance between himself and Orlando. He glanced at Harry again and licked his lips.

A low growling sound forced itself past Orlando’s lips and the muscles in his jaw worked furiously. 

“See, and that’s why I’m thinking of firing you,” Karl stated.

The millionaire’s smile grew that little bit broader, fully revealing the shark. And fucking hell, that shouldn’t be hot. The mechanic pushed himself away from the Bentley.

“I’m fucking gold,” Orlando said, “I’d have a new job fixing up someone else’s cars within a week. And if you try anything with Harry?” He stepped a little closer to Karl, invading the millionaire’s space, and added quietly, “I’ll run you over with mycar.”

Karl held his gaze for a moment, then he tilted his head to the side contemplatively. There was something new in his voice now, not fear or remorse, something darker, like arousal.

“What do you drive?”

“A fucking Hummer.”

The millionaire pulled back after a long second, a grin on his lips, that was less dangerous but just as sexy. 

“I want the Mas this afternoon, make sure it’s good to go,” the millionaire said and his perfectly manicured hand clapped down on Orlando’s shoulder briefly, before he turned around once again. He flashed Orlando a smile when he’d reached the doors, “This isn’t over.”

Orlando glared at the other man’s back as he walked across the yard, the soles of his 800$ shoes crunching on the gravel. 

“It fucking well is,” Orlando muttered to himself before he bent over the car again.

***

“Fucking piece of fucking shit!” 

The wrench made a loud clattering sound as Orlando slammed it onto the ground and kicked it for good measures. It skittered across the floor and clanked against the office door. Orlando glowered at the engine, before taking out a smaller tool and finishing the job.

“Since when is this a football stadium?” Harry’s voice sounded amused rather than angry but Orlando responded snappily anyway.

“Fuck off, Harry.”

The older mechanic’s footsteps echoed in the hall as he walked closer and Orlando straightened when Harry reached the Bentley. 

“Need help?”

“No,” Orlando shook his head and stuffed the small wrench into a pocket of his overall again. “I got it.”

Harry took a look, as per usual standing that little bit too close to Orlando, as he bent over the engine. 

“I can see that. Looks good.”

Orlando shrugged and wiped his greasy hands on the dirty material of his overall. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

Harry considered him for a moment and then slammed the hood shut. 

“How bout a bonus for a job well done?” 

Orlando looked at him, never hiding the want in his eyes as they raked over Harry’s body, lingered on Harry’s lips.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked bluntly and his working boots kicked Harry’s sneakers apart to make room for him. 

Harry let him and relaxed against the car, and unsurprisingly, his laid back attitude and the calm expression on his handsome features almost camouflaged the desire in his eyes. Still, he smiled at Orlando and suggested,

“I was thinking ‘bout buying you dinner tonight...”

If this really were a discussion about rewarding work well done, then this would be a valid offer. Orlando continuously bitched about how much of a tight-arse the head mechanic was. But now, he ignored Harry’s offer, ignored the teasing affection in his voice, and just leaned in and asked again,

“Can I fuck you now?”

He could feel Harry’s arousal through the fabric between them, Harry’s body pressing against his own automatically. Orlando felt Harry’s grip curling over his hipbones when the older man replied quietly,

“Yeah, okay.”

It was all Orlando needed, and Harry didn’t resist when he was all but shoved into the backseat of the Bentley. 

The car smelled of leather and money and power – just like Karl – but Harry smelled better, fucking intoxicating. Orlando licked his skin, bit his jaw, as he worked on the fly of Harry’s pants and growled in appreciation when Harry’s fingers tugged at his hair, when they pulled down the zipper of Orlando’s overall. 

They got Harry’s shoes and his pants of, and Orlando’s overall half way down, but that already stretched Orlando’s patience. It was still the backseat of a car, even if a huge one, so it was imperfect and cramped, uncomfortable and annoying. 

Until Orlando’s cock was buried inside Harry’s ass, and his face was hidden in the crook of Harry’s neck. The collar of Harry’s shirt scratched his cheek as he grunted against his lover’s skin with each short, hard thrust. He couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, only wanted Harry and always more of him.

“Fuck, Orlando,” Harry whispered and tugged him closer, big hands roaming over Orlando’s back. “Always so –” 

The almost reverence in his voice hit Orlando like a punch in the gut. He slid his tongue past Harry’s lips, to shut him up, to feel more of him, and groaned when Harry closed his inner muscles around his cock. His t-shirt was bunching up, Harry’s hands under it and on his ass, sweat pooled in the small of Orlando’s back and fucking hell, Harry was so tight around him, always so damn tight, just for him.

“I love how you feel inside me,” Harry murmured into his mouth as Orlando groaned softly, and could feel Harry’s cock, trapped between their bodies, hart and hot and leaking against his belly.

“Sentimental fag,” he replied gruffly, but framed Harry’s head with his lower arms, the backseat’s buttersoft leather sticky against his skin.

“Can’t help it,” Harry gasped, left his throat exposed when Orlando shoved into him harder, annoyance in his motions – couldn’t get Karl’s grin out of his fucking head. He bit down on Harry’s neck, anchoring himself there, and that was better, soothing. Harry shifted under him, to pull him closer, deeper yet, and he rumbled, “You’re sexy when you’re pissed off.”

“Fuck you,” Orlando muttered and licked over the bruise on Harry’s neck.

Harry laughed breathlessly and his knee bumped against the passenger’s seat when he wrapped his leg around Orlando’s side. 

“No one does it as good as you.”

Orlando pushed as deep as he could, stopped there. He looked down at Harry, grease stains on his face and his bunched up t-shirt where Orlando had touched him, felt the inside of Harry’s thighs hot and soft against his own, felt Harry’s cock as a hard line against his stomach. 

Harry let him look, let him feel, and his steady gaze was all that kept Orlando from coming, or lashing out in frustration. He leaned down and rubbed his cheek against Harry’s stubble, the burn so welcome as it scraped off the thought of anyone but Orlando in this position. 

“You better make damn sure that no one else fucks you, period.”

Harry’s next breath was a quiet moan, the futile attempt of staying in control, but his grip in Orlando’s short hair was delightfully painful. 

“You’re even hotter when you’re getting territorial,” he whispered, raw and honest.

“And you’re most gorgeous when my cock’s filling you up,” Orlando replied, and made sure Harry knew exactly how deep and hard he could go. It had to hurt at least a bit, no prep and just spit for lube, but Harry moaned continuously now with each of Orlando’s thrusts. Orlando nipped at his chin, almost satisfied with his claim, with marking Harry as his. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry agreed instantly and his teeth caught Orlando’s lower lip, need in his voice, “Come on now, fuck me properly.”

“Ask nicely.”

“God, fuck, please,” it burst out of Harry, “Orlando, please.”

Something in Orlando’s belly loosened at the tone of his voice, some of the tension made way for more fluid motions. He complied – short, fast, hard stabs into Harry, the smell of expensive leather and sweat thickened the air inside the Bentley as Harry pleaded and Orlando fucked him. 

This was beyond Orlando’s control by now, heat and lust washed over him again and again, until he pulled back from their open mouthed kiss. Pulled back enough to frame his lover’s face with his hands to hold him still, but it was Harry’s gaze that held him captive. Harry was breathing in short, quick hitches now, but his eyes were still clear, he still saw, heard Orlando.

“Tell me,” Orlando rocked against him and didn’t meet the other man’s eyes when he asked quietly, “Do I need to be jealous, Harry?”

Harry’s eyes widened, and for a second Orlando didn’t understand. Then Harry shuddered violently and came between their bellies, slick strands of hot spunk, again and again and again, his eyes fixed on Orlando, and Orlando’s quiet tone of voice echoing in each of Harry’s gasped, “No, no, no.”

Orlando believed him, and came deep inside of him.

“Never.”

Getting screwed

As soon as Karl had bought himself a quaint little dictatorship somewhere in South America, the first thing on the agenda would be categorically banning garden parties from his dominion. Being rich as sin should mean you were privileged, starting with actually having fun during your free time. But instead, he stood around in his fucking garden, holding a fucking tiny glass and making fucking chitchat.

The only bright spot of the whole afternoon so far was the dress that his fiancé was wearing, if you could call that stamp sized bit of almost see through fabric a dress at all. Karl approved and had spent most of the afternoon staring at her tits and her ass (depending on which way she was facing) while talking to highly important, bloody boring whoevers.

It was Salma again who provided bright spot number two by suggesting Karl should show off his new 1950 Chevy Pickup. Karl had his cell out, telling his mechanic to drive the vintage car over, even before she had finished her sentence. The arrival of the shiny black and white car elicited a lot of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the other guests and an amused eyeroll from Salma that Karl replied to by wrapping an arm around her slender waist.

Out of the car Orlando emerged, both his outfit as well as his expression decidedly not fitting for a garden party. He made a bee line for Karl, the Pickup’s keys in his hand. Karl could feel Salma straightening slightly, always the good hostess, no matter what, but Orlando ignored her completely and thrust the car keys into Karl’s hand.

“I’m not your fucking chauffeur,” he snarled quietly as he halted in front of the millionaire. He looked like he’d rolled around in dirt and poured machine oil over himself for good measures, short hair wild and dirty, pretty much like the look in his eyes.

“Well, thank you anyway,” Salma replied in Karl’s place and Orlando regarded her with cold eyes before directing his angry stare at Karl again.

“Really got better things to do.”

“Really?” Karl answered, default smile still plastered on his face as anger threatened to get the better of him. Salma’s hand pressed against his back soothingly, Orlando however just grunted and pushed his fists in the pockets of his overall. 

“If that’s alright with you, boss,” the mechanic said, sarcasm as thick as engine oil. “I’ll go back now and fix up the sodding electricity fuck up in your garage.” 

Without waiting for an answer he turned on his heels, heavy working boots stomping down on perfectly manicured lawn as he walked away.

“That was rather…” Salma searched for a word, like she sometimes did. “…sassy.”

“You have no idea,” Karl replied gruffly and emptied his glass in one go. That little shit.

“Well, he is your employee,” she pointed out and a delicate hand took another glass of champagne from a tray. Her eyes raked over the assembly of high society on their front lawn, all so polite and good mannered and fucking boring. So different from the glint of affection as well as arrogance now in Salma’s eyes when she snuggled against Karl’s side and asked, 

“You’re not just going to let him get away with that. Are you, darling?”

***

Harry had almost finished with the Porsche he’d been working on the entire afternoon, when a low rumbling announced the return of the Chevy. His thoughts were still revolving around the manifold he’d been working on, so he didn’t pay his boss’s arrival much attention, though he opened and closed the garage door for him.

The millionaire cut the engine off and got out of the car, slamming its door shut with a little too much force. Harry wiped his dirty hands on a washcloth, without achieving much, and nodded hello when Karl’s eyes met his. 

“Coulda phoned, would’ve picked up the car,” he said as he ran his cloth over the shimmering hood. Karl merely grunted and Harry could practically feel his heavy gaze on him as he polished some fingerprints off the black paint. 

“I want you to give your mechanic his week’s notice.”

Harry looked up from his task. 

“What?”

“Orlando,” Karl said, pronouncing every syllable very distinctly and with carefully restrained anger. “He’s fired.”

Harry shook his head, frowning deeply now.

“There’s no way I can deal without a second mechanic,” he said and it was the truth, Karl owned an entire fleet of cars that needed looking after. 

“So, hire someone new.” Short and clipped.

“But Orlando -” 

“Not him.”

“He’s the best.” Harry tried again even though he already felt the impact of Karl’s decision, two words like two punches in the gut, and very deliberate ones at that. “You won’t get anyone else who –“

“I don’t care,” Karl said in a voice that forbade discussion. The millionaire pushed himself away from his car, arrogance of a panther right before the kill. He halted directly in front of Harry, just that side of too close. “Orlando is a little shit who is far too often out of his line. I want him gone.”

Frustration curled Harry’s hands into fists.

“So, you always get what you want?”

The smile that now freezed over Karl’s lips didn’t reach his eyes. He stepped a bit closer yet, Harry could smell his expensive cologne and underneath the faintest bit of sweat that made him want to - 

“I’m worth two hundred million plus, and I’m barely 36,” Karl interrupted. His voice dropped a little lower yet as he leaned in, “What do you think?”

Harry held his gaze for a long second, wanted to look away, step away, but found he couldn’t. Karl’s quiet chuckle echoed in the large garage and he leaned back against the front of the Pickup. In disbelief, Harry tossed the cloth still in his hand onto the Chevy’s hood. 

“You’re enjoying this?”

Karl shrugged, didn’t move, even though Harry had trapped him against the vintage car now but said almost conversationally,

“The ancient Greeks buggered their defeated enemies, did you know?”

Harry growled. 

Karl laughed.

“Layoff drives the point home just as nicely,” the millionaire exemplified coldly.

“So, it’s fuck or get fucked, that what you’re saying?” the head mechanic spat out, his mouth full of disgust as anger boiled his blood.

“That’s what I’m proving to you.” Karl replied and pushed forward to get away from the car. Harry didn’t let him. The millionaire’s dark eyes lit up with fury, fully woke that dark thing within Harry. 

“He’s fired, Sinclair,” Karl snarled, leaning in. That cruel smile curled his full lips a little more when he added mockingly, “I’m sure he’s gonna find - other work quickly, pretty thing that he is.”

Harry’s hand snapped up, closed around Karl’s jugular. “You really don’t want to go there –“

Karl’s entire posture changed, muscles tensing underneath the expensive fabric, but he didn’t make a move to get Harry’s hand off his neck. The mechanic could feel his throat working when he spoke again. 

“Is that all you got?” Karl taunted, his body hot and hard and dangerous against Harry’s own, and only then shoved his hand against the mechanic’s chest in an attempt to push him back. 

“Shut up,” Harry hissed, tightening his grip and not moving an inch. Karl pressed against him again, once more to no avail.

“Don’t you get it?” Karl sneered, his hand still on Harry’s chest, over his heart that was racing frantically. “Your boy’s gone.”

When Orlando talked about Karl, it had a similar ring to it, only that with Orlando it was growled curse words spat into your face whereas Karl would pat you on the shoulder while stabbing you in the back and twisting the knife. Mutual aversion and obsession both. Just that Karl had more pull. 

“I can fuck you over any time I want to,” the millionaire said quietly, in an almost whisper. He pressed against Harry and the mechanic could feel the outline of his hard cock hard against Harry’s thigh. Karl had more leverage and he knew it. Got off on it. “You can’t do jack about it.”

“The hell I can’t,” Harry snarled and smashed his mouth onto Karl’s. The millionaire’s grunt of surprise, the way his whole body seemed to go slack, let intent flare up inside Harry. That fucking arrogant bastard for once stunned and quietened, it instantly got Harry addicted. 

Karl struggled briefly, his hands on Harry’s shoulder digging in but forgetting what they were supposed to do as Harry kissed him. His teeth clashed against Karl’s, his tongue forced its way into Karl’s mouth as his hand around the millionaire’s throat never loosened its hold. You reap what you sow. Just for this second, he was not composed and fucking superior. But having shoved him from his pedestal only made Harry want to disfigure the fallen even more. Karl’s pained gasp, when Harry bit down on his lower lip, hardly made up for his earlier taunting. Again, Karl gasped in surprise but didn’t stop Harry when the mechanic pushed his free hand between their bodies, not touching Karl’s cock but going straight to his fly. He pulled it down, dragged Karl’s trousers down just enough. 

When Harry released Karl’s mouth, his throat, the millionaire blinked, frozen. Harry grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Karl’s head snapped back, darkness in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder back at Harry, his voice an infuriated growl. 

“What the fuck are you –“ 

“Hold still,” Harry interrupted, one hand on the back of Karl’s neck now, shoving him down to bend over the pickup’s hood while the other freed his own cock. “You’re gonna scratch the paint, boss.”

Harry’s sarcasm was met by a growl and now Karl started struggling for real. Tightening his grip, fingers digging into the millionaire’s neck, Harry used his body weight to firmly trap Karl under him. Karl’s naked ass was pressed against his groin, the struggle bringing Harry’s dick to full hardness, and Harry hissed into the other man’s ear,

“You want any prep at all? You hold the fuck still and keep your mouth shut.”

Karl stopped fighting abruptly, his elaborated breathing – a snarl with each exhalation – the only sound coming from his mouth, every muscle strained. Harry spat in his hand, roughly shoved two fingers into the body beneath him, eliciting a groan from Karl’s throat, pained, aroused, angry – Harry didn’t know, couldn’t care less, as unprepared muscles closed around his twisting digits.

“At least,” Karl struggled to talk, his voice parched, as he twisted under Harry’s hand, “use a fucking condom.”

Harry snarled in response but got a rubber out of his back pocket, after pulling his fingers out of the millionaire’s hole, rolled it on. He spat on his hand again that little dollop the only lubricant handy, the only one Karl’d get anyway.

Karl didn’t keep quiet when Harry started pushing into him. A litany of curse words spilled over his lips and his thighs trembled against Harry’s as he desperately tried to adjust to the rough intrusion, fought it at the same time. Harry let him curse, bit back a groan, Karl’s hole so impossibly tight that Harry was barely able to get inside.

Karl turned his head as much as he could, cheek against the shiny white hood of the car, and looked back at Harry. His pupils blown so wide, they resembled smouldering black coals. Every inhibition that still might have held Harry back was consumed by the unrestrained fire in the millionaire’s eyes.

“God, you’re so damn tight,” he grunted as he shoved forward and finally managed to get his cock fully inside the other man’s body. Pain flicked over Karl’s features, only accentuated his snide look. Harry leaned over him, his mouth near the other man’s ear. “Does fucking hurt, doesn’t it? That’s what it’s like, getting screwed.”

Karl looked like he was about to respond, but all that came out from between his parted lips was a low groan. He squeezed his eyes shut, every of Harry’s hard thrusts forcing another quiet grunt out of him. 

It was hard, fast, brutal. Sweat ran down Harry’s face, wiped off on the back of Karl’s shirt, without him breaking his stride. Harry let go of Karl’s neck to change the angle, grip the other man’s hips to fuck him harder, and Karl pushed his hands against the Pickup’s hood as he arched back against him. Not once had he answered to the curses and mocking praises Harry grunted into his ear, but the changed angle made him whimper, a soft and fragile sound. It snapped Harry out of his frenzy – Christ, fuck, what was he doing?! – and pushed him right over the edge.

As he spilled his seed, his hips reflexively kept pumping. His vision was blurry, blood was rushing in his ears but still the image of Karl’s contorted face, the sound of him gasping harshly one last time, almost made Harry come for a second time.

They both were panting harshly, otherwise frozen for a moment. Abruptly Harry snatched his hands from Karl’s hips, like he’d burned himself, drew back and out. He pulled the rubber off his softening cock, stared at his own hand in disbelief. What had he done? 

Karl winced a little as he pushed himself up and pulled his trousers up, his broad back turned to Harry as he fastened them again. Harry’s fingers trembled as he did the same. What the fuck had he done.

The millionaire stepped away from the car, sweat and cum tainting the paint, even straightened his shirt. Harry’s eyes were on him the entire time, still were as the other man finally turned towards him. 

The same glint in black eyes, the same curl of his full lips, the perfect haircut framing his strong features no differently. Harry was the first to look away and Karl’s footsteps echoed in the large hall as he walked towards the side entrance.

“Oh, Harry?” 

The mechanic raised his head in time to catch the keys to the Chevy that Karl had tossed his way. The handle to the door already in his hand, the millionaire looked back at him once more and said, 

“Motoexpo is in a month. Make sure, your boy is done with my Harley till then.”

A smirk flashed over Karl’s lips before he disappeared. 

Harry didn’t say anything, just stared at the slowly closing door in disbelief. He always kept his calm. He wasn’t like Orlando who wore his heart on his sleeve, just as generous with cuss words and punches as he was with smiles and displays of affection. 

Harry wasn’t hotheaded or irrational like Orlando. 

Never except when it was about Orlando – 

“Hey.”

Harry turned his head as Orlando walked over from the small electricity room at the other end of the garage. The mechanic had his arms crossed in front of his chest, mirroring Harry’s defensive posture, and his eyes were even darker than usual as they fixed the door through which the millionaire had just left. 

“That fucking bastard,” Harry grunted quietly, almost resignedly, when Orlando had reached him.

“Tight ass, though,” Orlando quoted evenly, not raging, not smiling either.

Harry didn’t say anything but waited. He was good at that, usually didn’t even twitch or blink. And still now, he turned his gaze down, looked at the tips of his boots, as all the things he’d said echoed in his mind. 

’Gonna be so fucking tight, gonna make it fucking hurt.’

Orlando’s upper arm brushed against his own and Harry looked up.

“How comes you never sweet talk me like that?” the younger man asked, standing too close, and his hard eyes succumbed under the small smile on his lips – knowing that the idea that this thing between Harry and Karl had been anything like…, anything but… that it had been anything at all couldn’t be farer fetched. 

Orlando’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling, and Harry’s followed suit.

“Six years I’ve been working here now,” the head mechanic said, squinting as he tried to focus on the small silvery box on the ceiling and burying his hands in his pockets. The security camera, snug against one of the thick steel support logs, looked back down at him, tiny green light signaling its working status. 

“Always forget the surveillance system has got sound.”

“Oh, and a good’n’clear one, too,” Orlando answered with a smile a little broader, a little more predatory. He unfolded his arms and just then Harry saw that he held a blank DVD in his right hand. The mechanic idly flicked it between his fingers and groaned two, three times – cruel and short sounds a perfect imitation of the noises Harry had forced out of Karl. 

But Orlando’s other hand lingered on Harry’s lower arm in an affectionate touch. Because he got it, got Harry and nothing could ever tone down what he felt for him. It always made things better, made Harry want to respond in kind. Made him feel fiercely protective over Orlando.

And Karl had come, Karl had seen, Karl had conquered. 

Harry wasn’t ashamed of having fucked him hard enough to leave bruises. Not of having fucked someone else but Orlando. It wasn’t guilt that made him wince, remembering Karl’s departing smirk, as sunk in – 

Who’d been manipulated like a marionette. Who’d been screwing whom here.

He didn’t feel shame, or guilt. 

He felt embarrassed.

“Jesus, I – ,” he breathed out and stopped again before he rubbed his hand over his face and peeked at Orlando from behind it. 

Orlando stepped closer to him, his hands found Harry’s hips and he leaned his forehead against the other man’s.

“I don’t care,” he said quietly and Harry closed his eyes momentarily at the calm tenderness in his voice, even though he knew the sentence wasn’t complete. 

“I don’t care that he’s gorgeous and the most fucking influential bloke in the universe. He does summat like that again?” Orlando pulled back the littlest bit again. “I’ll kill him.”

Harry merely nodded once – what was there to say, Orlando understood Harry’s reactions better than he himself did anyway. He rested both his lower arms on the other man’s shoulders, lips touching Orlando’s in a brief kiss. Then he replied with his own brand of affection, 

“Thought you’d appreciate the setup. Big capitalist taking it up the arse like a good little choir boy?”

Orlando grinned and lightly tapped Harry’s chest with the DVD case and his voice was as arrogantly superior as the millionaire’s had been when he said almost conversationally, “Now, think ‘bout what we could do with such a sweet bit of amateur porn…”

A smile crept up onto Harry’s lips, “I don’t know whether you should -,“ 

“Get your mind out of the mob, Har.” Orlando laughed and cupped Harry’s chin, thumb gently rubbing just underneath his lower lip. “I meant watching it while you fuck me blind. Let’s get outa here.”

Getting off  
“You noticed how the boss filled out?” Harry asks, tone of voice conversational. It’s that, probably, even more than the question itself, that makes Orlando tense.

“Nice set of shoulders,” Harry adds as his gaze slides over the plain of Orlando’s. “Had ‘em before of course, but dunno, they seem broader to you?”

Orlando’s shoulders flex as he shifts his weight – Harry stops for a moment to appreciate the string of muscles tightening in Orlando’s arms that hold him up. Orlando gives him a dirty look over his shoulder.

“You gotta fucking talk ‘bout that right now?”

The dangerous quietness of his voice causes Harry to shrug. Between the two of them, Orlando is the one who thinks wearing a helmet while riding a bike is for pussies. But Harry is the one who really likes to play with fire when they are like this. He loosens his grip on Orlando’s hip, slides his hand to the small of Orlando’s back, watches his fingers spread there, looks down at his dick, buried inside Orlando.

“Saw him earlier, when he came to the garage,” he says idly. “Wore a t-shirt, one of those flimsy designer things that cost a month’s wages.”

Orlando is still glaring at him, eyes having narrowed with every word. Harry starts moving again, Orlando adjusts his stance, head dropping, shoulders arching. Harry slides his hand up his spine, motion a bit erratic, in sync with his thrusts, bit by bit, until he touches the back of Orlando’s head. He runs his palm over it, hair buzzed too short for his fingers to be able to grip it.

“There’s things I wanna do to those shoulders,” he says and presses down with his hand. Orlando refuses to budge. Harry leans forward, uses his weight to push down between Orlando’s shoulders. Orlando still won’t give in, his arms quivering slightly as they have to support practically both of them now.

“Fuck me properly, dammit,” he orders. “’Stead of daydreaming ‘bout shit.”

Harry pushes Orlando’s thighs further apart with his knees, forces his center of gravity to change, his arms to take even more of their weight. He shoves into him, uses the momentum of that brutal thrust and leans on him again. As Orlando tries to adjust, his right hand slips on the sheet and he goes down, Harry’s hand in his neck as the side of his face is pressed against the pillow now.

“Like this?” Harry replies belatedly, grins.

“You’re a fucking – bastard,” Orlando answers, the last word spoken an octave lower, because Harry thrusts into him again. Something that is more a growl than a groan comes from his lips. Tightening his grip on Orlando’s neck to keep him down, Harry leans forward, lips touching Orlando’s ear.

“I want to fuck him,” he says, voice low as if it’s a secret. If there is anyone he shouldn’t be sharing it with, then it’s Orlando. He nips at his shoulder. “Pin him down, just like I got you pinned down right now. Can’t get away now, can you?”

Orlando scoffs and twists under him, seriously trying to get him off. The fingers of his right hand dig into Harry’s right side, digging into soft flesh, and he attempts to get his left arm underneath him. Harry bites down on his shoulder, hard enough for Orlando to grunt in pain. It refocuses his concentration for the moment it takes Harry to catch his right arm, bend it onto his back. He lets go of Orlando’s neck, shoves his arm further up his back until Orlando stops struggling, lies there. Quiet, trapped, eyes dark with impotent fury.

“Can’t get away now,” Harry repeats pointedly. “Can you?”

He waits for an answer, and when that doesn’t come, he pushes Orlando’s arm up even more.

“No,” Orlando finally complies through gritted teeth, jaw tight, breathing raggedly.

Harry slides his free hand over the curve of Orlando’s butt, pulls out enough to push it between their bodies, fingers circling Orlando’s stretched hole.

“You think he gets off on the rough stuff as much as you do?” he asks, again tightens his grip on Orlando’s wrist when Orlando doesn’t instantly answer.

“He’s a fucking sick pervert,” Orlando replies, more instinctive approval than disgust in his voice, and he pulls a face as if the taste of that is like vomit on his tongue. 

Harry pushes a finger inside, alongside his dick, twists it as he leans forward.

“That wasn’t an answer,” he says, quietly, sweetly, bites Orlando’s ear.

“If you ever do to him,” Orlando grunts with effort, struggles, hisses with discomfort, “what you do to me –“

“Then what?” Harry taunts, laughs. He withdraws completely, one, then two fingers the only things remaining inside Orlando, his dick heavy and slick against the inside of Orlando’s thigh. Some of the haze lifts from his mind, makes it sharper, makes this even more delicious. He shoves three fingers into Orlando, fucks him with them until Orlando has to fight to keep his eyes open, gasps.

“We both know you wanna watch me do this to him. Hear him whimper, just like you –“

“Fuck you,” Orlando snarls. “I don’t fucking –”

“But you want to. Want to beg me to hurt you just a little bit more, don’t you?”

Orlando doesn’t answer, but when Harry winds his arm again, wordlessly repeating the question, Orlando’s eyes drift shut, and he lets out a low groan. Harry hums.

“Thought so.” 

He pulls his fingers out, replaces them with his dick again, buries himself in Orlando’s (finally, momentarily) pliant body. Slow, steady, deep thrusts now, that keep Orlando from forming words, or even clear thoughts. Harry does the thinking for him now, fills his blurred mind with images of his own.

“I know he’d get off on this, and he wouldn’t be such a fucking difficult pain in the arse about it, either. Not like you. He’d beg nicely, be a bit scared, docile, like he’s supposed to act. It’s what these rich guys want; someone to just give it to them, rip that control from them.”

Orlando exhales harshly. “Fuck, yeah.” 

“I’ll do him like this, less of a bother that way. Hands on his back, that’d bunch his shoulders up nice. Perfect for biting.”

Orlando arches his back and groans again, sound growing softer when Harry does him the favor and bites the tender flesh of his neck, hand rubbing the back of his head.

“Bet he gets off on that, just like you do. And on you watching me fuck him, exactly like this.”

Orlando pushes his hips up to meet Harry’s thrusts.

“C’mon, Har’,” he demands, like he is choking on the words. “Is that all you got?”

“I’d fuck him harder,” Harry replies as he bottoms out, pulls out almost completely, shoves back in before Orlando can adjust. “And he loves it, doesn’t even want to come, it’s so good.” 

And fuck, just the thought of it, it’s almost painful all on its own, like he fucked himself raw already. His brain zeroes in on that, on the feeling of Orlando’s lean hard body underneath him, visions of Karl’s crowding his mind. He pushes himself up again, the changed angle just perfect, and his grip on Orlando’s arm tightens as he uses it as leverage.

“Shit,” Orlando curses, his face scrunching up as his orgasm rips through him. His body convulses violently, bucking up against Harry, needing to be held down – until suddenly, from one second to the other, he surrenders completely. All of his muscles become slack, and as Harry thrusts into him, he just lets it happen, like a rag doll, mind gone blank, body for Harry to use. Harry lets go of his wrist, drops his forehead onto his shoulder, fucks into him a couple of times more, quick, precise stabs, comes.

He is still trying to catch his breath, black stars dancing in front of his eyes, when Orlando shifts under him. Pulling his arm from his back, Orlando hisses as he lifts it, joints cracking in protest as he raises it, stiffly, to rub his face.

“Shit,” he repeats, an exhausted chuckle lightening his voice.

Harry kisses the place right between his shoulder blades. Orlando scoffs in response.

“Fuck, Har’,” he murmurs, face still half hidden behind his hand. He turns, upper body twisting so he can face him as Harry stays buried inside him. He cups Harry’s cheek with his hand, thumb stroking his temple, and he pushes himself up on his right arm to kiss Harry’s forehead. His arm refuses to support him for longer than a second, though, and gracelessly he falls back onto the bed, laughing.

“Think you dislocated it, arsehole,” he says affectionately as he rubs the numb limb.

Harry strokes down one of Orlando’s long thighs, solid against his own.

“Doubt it. You’d be screaming like a banshee.”

Orlando chuckles. 

“I was. You just mistook that for ecstasy, dumb fuck that you are.”

Harry laughs and leans down to kiss that filthy mouth. He slides his tongue inside, Orlando’s free hand against the back of his skull. When he pulls back again, Orlando makes a rumbling sound, low in his throat, sated, peaceful.

“Day you don’t get off on rough treatment,” Harry murmurs, nipping at Orlando’s lower lip. “I start worrying about you, not before.”

Orlando stops massaging his shoulder and regards Harry thoughtfully. 

“Sometimes I’m thinking, should it worry me? How good you’ve become, twisting that particular knife.”

Harry laughs in surprise, looks up from Orlando’s lips to meet his eyes.

“You think I’ve been practicing behind your back? With Karl, even?”

“’He’s got a nice set of shoulders’”, Orlando quotes, just partly mockingly, eyes narrowing a bit. “’I wanna fuck him.’”

“Well, he does,” Harry says reasonably. “And we both do.”

Orlando leans up once more. His lips brush against Harry, an endearment, a promise, a threat, it’s hard to tell the difference with him. His arm snakes around Harry’s side, anchoring him. 

“Don’t start again. You might lose this time.”


End file.
